The nights are longer now than before,
always dark and cold, drawing in the mist,
clouding our vision through the prison
in which we waited. There was no stoppage
in time anymore, just the silence that
enveloped around us.

Only with the distant rumble of thunder
could any change in time - the candle of a
heart slowly being extinquised the only sight
to be seen through the yellow panes of
smoke and ash for miles, chocking the life
from the flame.

Clammy and stuffy don't even begin to describe
the horrors of where I am trapped. Encased in
the coffin of earth and rubber, always wet and cold
from the rain which ceased to stop, filling our boots
till they could fill no more. French ground is where
I stand, and French ground is where I die.

Life lives no more, only the rats see little hope,
nibbled away from frost-bite of death and disease,
only the strongest survive the month. Even the horses
could sense it, their long faces reflecting the horrors
that were to be expected soon, one last push they say,
one last push till it ends.

Repulsed by the tightness in which I was trapped I reach
forward into the yellow cloud, spiralling itself through
the wire which surrounded me. One breath was all it took
to wipe the life from the eyes, so thats all I took,
one breath.